“The Sandpoint Garrison”. Three hours after sunup:
Frustrated by the dim witted creature, and unable to do a proper "hands on" interrogation, due to the iron bars and steely eyes of the sheriff, E'therah stomps off to find fresh air and a bath.
Alaran, more accustomed to observing and listening, remembers tales of how goblins, especially lower status ones, use symbols and objects to communicate instead of words. Perhaps it is attempting to answer the question after all.
“The Tip”. Sundown.
The location of the Hagfish across from the garrison explains it's popularity with the town guards. Fortunately, or on occasion unfortunately, it can also mean a fast response whenever trouble happens.
The exterior of this popular destination is clad in salvaged ship planks creating a noteworthy appearance in Sandpoint. A carved sign hangs at the entrance "Home of Norah the Hagfish. Drink if you dare."
The evening is full on dark by the time E'Terah arrives. Despite her shorter gait the focused she-dwarf made good time arriving. A slight sea breeze blows in from the bay and on nights such as this the owner props the door open. Warm yellow light invitingly pours from the opening along with the sound of guffaws, stench of pipe weed and steaming seafood.
Alaran eyesite takes in the entire scene from several paces behind the oracle. A moment later she watches as the she dwarf . . .
Evening at the Rusty Dragon.
Alaran looks at the hot headed man, trying to perceive any detail that may explain his actions. He appears to be well dressed and of Tian decent is all she can make out.
Going to run three timelines for the moment. Jump in to as many or few as you feel are appropriate for your PC and/or fun for you.
“The Sandpoint Garrison”. Three hours after sunup:
A moment after Savarend grabbed the goblin, a strong odor of pickles and cabbage whiffs up in light tentacles of steam from the cold stone floor. Apparently it’s bladder is not all that it has lost control of.
Hearing Saverend whisper “speak” it immediately begins squeaking out La Laaaa Laaa Speak’ez speakie speakez. Pickles. Meat’ie pies. Uh, rat chewies. La Laaaa
Looking at E’Terah No steal Blargz namez! No hurtz I! No hurtz I!
Pleading to Alaran it yells out. Blarg no know name. Blarg know Blarg name. It’a Blarg.
Ugly longshank banger with ears wan’a be lik’a gobbies only ugly smooth *gag* ukk. Ugly.
Only chief talkie talk to ugly crack wiper, no Blarg. Blarg be from here. This be Balrg!
The goblin is pointing to where his necklace would have been.
DC 10 knowledge local or better to discern meaning.
“The Tip” Sundown. The Rusty Dragon Inn:
Come evening you find yourselves having a lovely repast at the Rusty Dragon, thinking over the days questions and planing strategies. Ameiko and Bethana busily go about their work, happy for the business. Although the majority of the conversation still focuses on the raid the mood is greatly improved over the night before.
As E’terah eats and drinks she sees one of the town guards enter the Inn. She recognizes him as one of the full timers on the sheriff’s roster. He looks about and heads directly to E’Terah, moving in such a way to insure his approach is unthreatening, but announced. Placing a hand lightly on her shoulder he knells down to speak in hushed tones.
Mistress Deepheavy, I hoped to find you here. I have news. I have listened ta your tale of the carriage driver you told the sheriff. Just now, I was grabbing some grub at th’ Hagfish, before my shift ya see. Anyways, there’s this stranger boastin’ ‘bout killing gobbies an such. Wiry fellow in a coachmen’s coat. ‘en I starts hearing ‘em spinnin’ a yarn ‘bout defending an entire carriage o’ passengers an such, killing o’er a dozen before be’n overran ‘e says.
He pushes his hand down harder on E’Terah’s shoulder upon feeling any movement to get up.
How hear me good, friend. Th’ sheriff aint got no tolerance for any vigilantly stuff in ‘is town. I got’a go on duty in thirty minutes, ‘an when I’do, I got’a check on any disturbances in my assigned area. Now. Ya diddn’a hear any o’ this from me. Clear!
Evening at the Rusty Dragon. Meal time the following morning:
Always a hearty meal and good company, the evening turns to entertainment. Drinking, music and stories that the Rusty Dragon is famous for. The place is packed tonight, including Aldern Foxglove ionce again looking his regal best, freshly washed and with a new tailored suit pressed as tight as his practiced smile.
Somewhere between whisky shots and mandolin ballads, the taverns door slams open with a violent rattle and boom. A surly visitor enters shouting sharp-tongued commands a in a strange language. The other patrons of the bar, seeming to recognize him, grow very quiet and interested in their drinks.
. . . crypt, reaches out with his longhammer, and taps gently on the crypt.
Aside from the gentle shifting of a few loose crumbles, resulting from the barbaric forceful opening of this once dignified resting place, nothing of note happens when it is tapped on.
From your new vantage point, it is clear that the skeletal remains of the former father Tobin have been removed.
Ameiko will take good care o’ya lasses. Speakn’ o lodgings, I thinks I’ll be gettn’a bit o’ bunk time meself. Tis gona be a busy morn. Besides cleaning up the gobs mess, I gota muck out the stables, water and feed the horses, groom out their coats, ‘ol brandy there needs a shoe replaced then .. He pauses, Then bellows out a great guffaw. HaHaaaa. Listen ta me. I prattle like a shopmaid. I envy ya lasses. Your days of adventuring lay before ya. He affectionally pats his pickled goblin prize. Ol’ Hosk days have horses arses laying before him. HaHaaaaa. Stay thirsty my friends.
The retired ranger climbs the stairs to his loft without further comment.
The Rusty Dragon
After a night of drinking, stories, acrobatics, table dancing(?) Haley sounds rather drunk there.. More stories and more drinking the small crowd stumbles back to their rooms or local homes.
On the second floor are a pair of basic rooms adjoined with a simple wooden door. Each square flat has five standard beds with mostly fresh linens. Both have a window overlooking Mud Street, with the corner room having one extra view of it's side alley.
The night passes restlessly with each creak, footfall or stray animal sound alerting senses. Militia patrol and citizens nervously peek out of shade drawn windows, but no further threat descends on Sandpoint.
As the glow of the sun raises over the east, the sweet smells of biscuits, bacon, coffee and pastries waft into the room from the kitchen below. It is a fresh and crisp start to a new day here in Sandpoint.
As your table swaps stories the grim thoughts of the patrons are replaced with tales of adventure and camaraderie. As Savarend begins to spin his yarn all are transported to a land fee of goblin destruction. By the conclusion of the tale drinks are flowing and conversations are sparking up.
The elderly halfling woman employed by Ameiko Kaijitsu to run the tavern, who introduced herself as Bethana Corwin when you first entered, gives you a warm soft smile. She is pleased with the diversion you are supplying to the locals.
Earlier in the evening it was mentioned by Dairkal that Ameiko had extended an offer of free room and board to the group of four sitting together, plus two others that would be joining soon. Bethana was at first taken aback, as her mistresses generosity for discounted accomidationis is well known, but a totally free stay is extremely rare. With free meals and drinks no less! With the dour mood of that time, she simply muttered. Well well. Now now. If you are laying down a fib, it’s a grand one. yes yes. If mistress Ameiko did not grant such generosity, she will ring your necks. Yes yes. After a short pause. But but, if she did and I refuse. Well. Then it is my neck she’ll ring. No no. No matter. I’ll make the arrangements.
Now, as the mood is more spirited, she approaches and throws two large iron keys attached to worn wooden carvings of dragon scales, each with a letter painted on them. Dairkal, I scratched a credit onto your ledger for a weeks boarding, I did I did. Pointing to the keys. Those two room are adjoining and there’s enough beds to sleep the lot o’ you plus four more. The normally timid halfling pauses then appears to make a decision. turning back, she addressed your table. So so. Your stories are so entertaining. Pray tell why my mistress would provide such an offer on the darkest of days. The moment gone, Her timid and meek nature seems to take back over. Umm uhh. If it please you , that is.
Elsewhere, in another part of Sandpoint. (Shared by an ajoing wall)
As quick as the she-dwarf could speak, the ranger spins on booted heals brandishing the glowing rod like a sword. Who there! Squinting his eyes from the fire to the darkened entrance he bellows. Do I know that voice!? Ho. Is that you my she-dwarf friend? Yes. Yes it is! Ho hohoho. Don’t just stand there, get yo’r arse in here. An who’s dis ya brings wit’ ya?
As E’Terha and Alaran enter, you both see a compact yet well maintained stables. Just inside the entrance is a somewhat grisly display. Nailed to three overhead rafters are rows of preserved goblin ears nailed in place. Each has a name burned into it’s leathery flesh.
I’was just ‘bout’a burnin a name o’ dis on’ onto it’s ear. The rat bastard runt was’a try’n to burn down The White Deer. Dat’s me favorite pup! Damn green turd licker almost got away wit also. I’didn’t have me a weapon when I spied it’s pointy frick ugly puss breakin’ da window and a’goin in wit’a torch. The burly rangers face turns beat red as he clinches his fists. I rans up ta’it and grabbed its muck puss leg and yanked it back. Flinging it against a water barrel. Again. And again. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN! Releasing his fist, a pleasant smile and relaxed nature returns to his face. Then it quit moving. That thought seems to calm the stablemaster. I messed up one ear really bad, but I did manage ta get this one. He walks you over to his bench. I forgot to ask it it’s ruddy name in all the excitement. Hmmmm. Any idea on what I should call it?
E’Tera searches through the remains of the goblin commando finding nothing but the usual assortment of brick-a-brack, goblin weapons and armor. The now empty potion vile seemed to be the only item of civilized value it carried. Searching all the remains while gathering her ear trophies she collects a total of 21 copper and 18 silver coins.
----
Savarend wrote:
he whispers to a militiaman beside him. I’ve seen men who get 'the itch' after facing death. Have myself once or twice. But never ten heartbeats after the enemy is dead!
The militiaman speaks softly from the corner of his mouth. Aye. The privileged are a strange lot. Never understood ‘em meself. Although, if a lady is gona pull someones arse outa th’ fire, a nobleman is not ah’ bad choice.
in a purposely loud voice meant for everyone’s ears the she dwarf proclaims
E'Terah wrote:
We all did our best t' keep those goblins off ya. Yer dog especially. Poor thing.
followed by Dairkal
Dairkal wrote:
Hey buddy, while Haley did indeed keep you safe, I helped kill your attackers. Also, if you would be so kind as to not drool on the young lady, I'm sure we'd all appreciate it
As though the word were a physical slap on the face, the nobleman jerks his head, stands up straight and takes in his surroundings. Looking to each of the gathered assemble, the dead goblins and his decapitated hound. In a clear voice more suited to his title he proclaims.
Yes. YES. Thank you all. Thank you truly. Your bravery. Your skill. It is admirable, indeed.
He extends an elbow to Haley as he exits the area. Let us gather with the others and see what all this is about.
----
Alaren look the new dwarf arrival over. Of the three that rounded the wall, the dwarf seems to be the one with the greatest signs of combat showing on his weapons, armor and beard. If fact, he more resembles the look of you new companions that that of the militia.
----
At the town square, a handful of townsfolk have gathered to assess the situation. Among those in attendance are Father Zantus whom you all recognize, the Tian woman known as Ameiko Kaijitsu who Masao meet earlier in the afternoon, a half dozen militiamen and couple of townsfolk armed with pitchforks and assorted sharp tools.
Standing in the center is a burly man with a close shaved head and deep brown skin. Although only average height, his poise and self-assurance make him to be an imposing figure. As you approach, the circle opens at the wave of his hand and all conversation stops.
Ho there! You lot! He gestures to the assembled group as the escorts move aside.
I understand you are responsible for all of this destruction in my town!? He says, referencing the burned carts, scorched streets and dead creatures.
Well . . !?
Savarend and the militiamen verify the security of the northgate wall as they travel north west. The men regale in the burly dwarfs tale of splattering goblins in one hit with his mighty longhammer, humerously referred to as goblinsmasher. Crossing under the arch behind the outbuildings connected to the Temple they stumble upon the ending of a conflict between a goblin command, his mount and a band of adventuring types protecting a defenseless aristocrat.
Alaren, seeing the same confrontation continuing from her vantage point at the opposite end of church street, leaves Masao to hog tie and guard the goblin. Running as fast as her slender legs can cary, she snatches up her bow and ends within arrowshot of the action.
=Your turn ends 60 feet from the commando & goblin dog, bow readied for action.
A great grin of pleasure crosses the goblin commando’s face. The seriously injured commando knows the end is near. Feeling itself dying, it imagines it’s horsechopper slicing through the dwarfs defensed and laying her belly open for it’s mount to eat. In reality, a slap of acid burns it’s flesh. As it’s head droops it spies the tip of a rapier protruding from broken ribs. Just as it’s hallucination of victory climaxes an arrow critically pierces it’s heart ending it’s life in an instant. The giant grin is permanently etched on the dead face.
It’s mount points it’s noise upwards and howls. A sound of grief or relief? We may never know. He begins to bound west looking to round the town wall and escape into the forest.
Animal check goes to 20, if desired. Each round needs a check. Once failed, no more checks.
The nobleman, looking worse for wear, realizes the battle is over. Blood rushes from his face at the realization and he almost faints. Regaining his composure, he look to Haley. You. You…save me. You saved me. By the gods. You. Saved. Me. Your skills are…are…amazing! Color returning to his face, the nobleman starts to regain control and the cut of his handsome jaw shines through the grime on his face. He speaks more slowly and deliberately. Never have I witnessed such courage before. . Drinking you in with a long sweeping gaze, he kneels on one knee, taking you hands in his. . . or witnessed one with such beauty. He lightly brushes his lips against the knuckles of your hand.
At some point after the commando’s death, the lead militiaman speaks up addressing everyone present.
The Sheriff has asked us to rendezvous with all able bodied combatants at the Temple square after our perimeter sweep. I think you lot qualify, and then some.
The noble presses his back against the stone block wall in the way those not accustomed to battle often do seeking protection. His shoulders tight he bunches his once opulent chapeau in clinched fists before his chest. By the gods, what just happened!? Are we safe. What do they want? You..your hurt. Gods. My hound. That creature. Your bleeding. Are we going to die?
The normally proud and controlled aristocrat is obviously out of his element, and is reaching hysteria and a state of confusion as his eyes and head dart about looking for further aggression.
E’Terah
The no nonsense she-dwarf stands ankle deep in a slurry of green and crinsmin goblin goo. Looking about for additional dangers, both her eyes and ears sense an air of calm near the town wall. With the exception of the commando and his mount directly before her, all else seem to be secured in this region of town.
Alaren & Masao;
Not hesitating when the agile little creature squirmed out of her grip Alaren performs a diving chase one again. As before her weight descends upon the fast moving creature and her arms wrap around stoping it’s movement.
Masao, having heard the half-elfs cries for help, leaps to intercept and lays down a hammer fist on the goblins skill. An audible crunch cracks forth as the goblins face impacts the hard earth. The goblin goes limp. A slow pool of blood gathers around it head. It lives to maraud no more.
Savarend;
The goblin gives a satisfying splat when cough between your hammer and the stone bridge. There is no doubt the resulting stain and chipped stone will send a message to any future goblins the cross Tanners bridge.
After gathering up the coins and searching the remains you turn to leave.
Rounding the corner are three humans identifying themselves as town militia.
Ho friend. Looks like good work was done here. The way behind is clear and others follow to secure the area. We are sweeping the town border. Your skills would be welcome if we encounter anymore green skitters. Would you join us friend dwarf?
Goblins turn
The commando is fir to be tied with rage. He takes his horsechopper and stops up to E'Terah. Die cur! I will boil your flesh from it's bones in the same pot as my mangy #@$% mount!
Savarend’s chakram streaks forth catching the retreating goblin in it’s back.
The creature keels forward landing face down arms and legs splayed out. His heavy sack drops with a clank as numerous coppers dance outwards and onto the stone bridge.
Alaren’s frustration grows at the chaotic creatures uncanny ability to avoid damage. As the diminutive green nemesis runs by the half elf looks ahead for way to stop it. Up ahead is about sixty feet of clear path before turning south west and leading back into the temple courtyard. At the bend in the road is a large vending tent sitting across from a cart of loaded with wine barrels.
The temple courtyard is now becoming crowded with townsfolk busy cleaning up and restoring order to the once peaceful area.
-----
The goblin dog’s life has been one of cruelty and abuse. Constant beatings and starvation to keep it obedient to it’s master. When pups, they are often pitted into death matches against their litter mates to cull out the weakest of the brood, with the victors left with nothing to eat but the remains of it’s siblings. Freed from it’s submissive prostrating and commanded to attack it’s abusive master the feral creature does not hesitate. With all the ferocity of a released inmate the beast vaults with the power of a coiled spring, mouth wide and teeth dripping with bacteria ridden thick saliva.
The mount tears into the commando, it's vice tight jaws clamping onto it's midsection, listing and tossing about the goblin like a rag doll. Arrrrg! Eck! DAMN YOUR FILTHY HIDE! I will #^@!ing chop you head off and eat it raw, you %^&* beast!
Amazingly, the tough commando still clings to life.
simultaneously a glow of energy extend from Haley attempting to penetrate the commando’s very will.
will save 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5
His will to live is stronger than Haleys arcane ability as it fights to regain control.
------
Dairkal, needing to protect his angles, stretches his short but able limbs to attack the the circling goblin already embedded with his starknife. *POP*. It finds an organ, spewing goblin innards across the sand. It drops. Dead before hitting the deck. This goblin will raid Sandpoint no more.
Gobs turn
The gob running past Alaren zigs and zags nearly reaching the entrance to the festival grounds. The frenzied effect seem to be wearing off as it is reaching for it's dogslicer.
------
The gob chasing Haley runs and jumps up on the crates.
Kill th' hu-mons! Kill th' hu-mons.
It's funz ta do.
Killz 'em deadz, then makez 'em stew!
Slice. Pain. Haley's upper arm is cut. Not badly, but it stings of jagged metal.
-----
The commando attempts to strike the attacking mount with it's horsechopper.
attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Unable to gain a good angle his attempts are useless. His sting of intelligible cursing returns.
Alaren lets fly another shaft, again tracking wide of her evasive target.
Dropping the bow she draws a slender blade and prepares for melee combat.
This same goblin had the luck of fools on it’s side today as one of E’Terah’s bolts lodged into it’s weapon and not it’s flesh. E’Terah continues to edge closer to the target.
Dairkal’s blade sings forth lodging in the goblins side that is running past him. With a startled squeal of pain he knows the blade has found it mark.
As a franticly frazzled fizzled goblin runs past E’Terah she openhandedly slaps him on the shoulder causing him to incline to a drastic angle hopping franticly on one foot to maintain his balance. As his equilibrium returns acrid smoke trails from his retreating back as the acid eats away garments and flesh.
As the smoldering shuttering shaken goblin ran past Haley Kindle he took no notice of her physical morphing or the swipe of sharpened obsidian nails as it went by. If it had, it surly would have left a wet trail in it’s wake.
E’Terah; You know the this animal is (loosely)combat trained and (loosly) under the command of it's master, Both those conditions would make your normal handle animal skills more difficult to accomplish. A DC20. However, sine you have masterfuly intimidated the animal (a nat 20 no less), you would gain back some favor. A DC 15 is needed to command it to attack it’s master.
Goblins Turn----------
The southern goblin j25 nearest Alaren flees with flying flaying fingers waving in the air. A shrill shrieking goblin cry penetrating all sensitive ears within range. It runs past Alaren heading south. By the look in it’s bulbous eyes this panicked effect will soon wear off. Worst of all, it's heading back into the heart of Sandpoint!
The goblin near Dairkal is struck with a starknife penetrating from it’s right side. Much like a wagon with a hobbled wheel, the goblin starts veering right during it’s hasty panicked attempt to flee the area.
The goblin smashing the crated gets board. Looking up he decides to do the first thing that pops into head.
Gob random actions:
1-Dairkal
2-E’Terah
3-Haley
4-Alaren
5-Noble
6-Pickle hunt
7-Flee west
8-flee right
9-smash a crate
10-nervous breakdown
gob 1 1d10 ⇒ 3
Wanting to attack the tattooed longshank fee-male it races to her (start of turn) position.
50% chance of running into the right turning goblin running around Dairkal.
<50=hit 1d100 ⇒ 57
Whew! barely avoiding a collision with his careening counterpart the former crate smashing goblin runs towards Haley only to be led on a foot race to follow her as she runs. This goblin is now making a wide right turn around E’Terah. double move run action
The goblin commando’s first instinct seeing all this chaos and advancing longshanks is to hop astride his mount and high-tail it to safety. Grabbing the slain dog’s head with a good yank to sever the remaining tissue, he takes his trophy and attempts to mount his ride. The goblins rat beast will not cooperate and simple lays hunkered against the crates whimpering. Gripping his horse chopper with both hands he raises it high above the cowering creatures neck. Not listens to me, your dontz! Me showz you wh *. A streaking figure of a longshanks followed by the nasty common language catches his attention. A longshanks fee-male is now with the longshank dog lover. They both must die!
Forgetting the disobedient mount the commando leaps onto the crates and barrels and works his way towards the longshanks. Horschopper at the ready!
E’Terah focuses her energy on the goblin dog mimicking it’s animal savagery in an attempt present herself as the alpha pact leader.
The feral beast hears her throaty grown and sees the barred teeth. Feeling intimidated, it backs away from it’s intended victim much to the shocking distress of the goblin commando on it’s back. The commando screams out a horrid string of high pitched sounds that can only be goblin cursing so foul it would make a bugbear blush. Waving it’s horse chopper franticly the enraged goblin leans forward and lets fly a panicked stroke at the hunting dog before it’s out of range.
gob attack w/ horsechopper 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Slicing off a swath of fur, the goblin scream out again as it realizes it missed killing the dog by literly a hairs breath.
He then, for some unknown reason, jump off the goblin dog to face the longshanks hound on foot while his mound backs off.
----
Alaren joins E’Terah.
Haley will catch up at the beginning of the NEXT round.
In a dark alley, in a scrambled maze of streets, feet stop running. Deep heavy breathing is the only movement. Cries and screams echo in the distance.
Then the familiar crackling orange glow of torch light rushes in, illuminating a green face with bloodlust eyes. The goblin has found him and approaches. Sniffing, or sensing him as prey. Whatever those damn crazed abominations do.
The man's clothes are cast in shifting refrain by the approaching torch. No longer the clean tailored straight lines of a uniform. Tattered, dirty and soaked with sweat and blood as they are now.
From the other side of the alley a young couple dart in. Lovers perhaps. No matter at this time. Seeing the light, they cry out. Who’s there. Oh please, please can you help us. The gobs are on out trail. Help us please.
The clever gob, easily distracted, now advances on the couple. The man also scrambles towards the couple. He now has a plan. Yes, a good plan thinks to himself. Here, this way. I can save you. I’m with the town militia.
The goblin squeals in delight. Goblins burn and goblins bite! Three longshank faces be my snack tonight!
The young girl screams at the goblins song. Even without understanding the language, the tone is terrifying.
The man reaches the couple moments before the goblin. A glint of steel where there was none before. A slender blade swipes the air. I have a way out. I always have a way out. the man assures.
Stepping between and behind the couple, he slashes at their ankle tendons, drooping them to the floor.
There goblin. Feast on those. That should keep you busy for a bit of time.
The man runs from the alley and the echoing screams it emits. He’s safe. He’s safe now. Just as he was safe when he fled the carriage a fortnight ago. If he can survive this, he can survive anything. The former carriage driver continues to weave his way around sandpoint. Always safe. Always with a plan.
As you wander the festival, your keen halfling sense of hearing overhears two women talking.
"I don't know about that Tsuto," one woman says. "He's always been a strange boy. And even more so of late."
"Now, don't you go on about him again," the other says. "You know he's had a rough time of it - what with being a bastard child. Leave him alone."
Haley:
You and your entourage approach the Pixie's Kitten. There you see one of the establishments employees, a lovely human woman, laying topless atop a table. Another employee is pouring an alcoholic spirit into her belly button, and placing a lemon wedge into her mouth. A burly human, sailer most likely by the manner of his dress and use of colorful language. Two other sailers standing near by give him enourgement.
Hy’ Bruno, ya’ kin’ du it’. on’ mor an ya gat ah freebee n’side, harr harrr.
To which the other replies Aye, an’ ifv’ ya tu drunk ta do da deed, I’a take ya fee turn fer yea.
The first onlooker grabs the other by the shirt collor
Wha’ yer mean, I’ze da one wh’ gabe Bruno th’ copper pe’ce in’a da firt place
Bruno bends at the waist, pausing to keep his ballance. Slurps the liquor, pause. stagers, pauses, bends a grabs the lemon wedge with his yellow teeth. Stand up, up, back, back, then all the way back collapsing on the pavement in a drunk blackout.
The sailors whoop and holler saying that Bruno won the game. The working ladies say he did not because he failed to put the lemon into the bowl as he did with the previous six.
The pirates say they will claim his prize anyway, and move towards the ladies.
Masao:
As Masao explores the festival he can't help but notice a fiery coral haired female dwarf bellowing exchanges with an older human over something called goblin jerky. Turning from that you stare straight into the eyes of a beautiful Tian woman looking you over. Nice Kikko armor. True Tian craftsmanship. Not the knock off stuff some roughnecks wear. Visiting for the festival adventurer? Oh, I'm Ameiko Kaijitsu, owner or the Rusty Dragon. She extends her hand, looks at it then retracts it back. In place of the traditional western greeting, she bows forward twenty degrees, keeping eye contact with Masao.
E’Terah:
Well done, Lady Dwarf! Here’s your prize. One stick of genuine goblin jerky. He gives you a quick wink before addressing the gathered children.
Goblin jerky is best when made while their muscles are still twitch’n, hee hee.
The kids run off screaming. Not sure if they should believe the man of not.
Names Daverin Hosk of Goblin Squash Stables. That’s a good bit o’ aiming you did there, lady . . . He pauses as one does when exchanging greetings for the first time.
Bussy double work day, plus mother-in-law is over needing care after a knee replacement. I only snuck in time for two of you in this post, I'll see if I can get to you others tonight, if not look for a post from me first thing tomorrow.
Alaren:
Drawn by your love for all things archery, you arrive on the beach near the old lighthouse. Standing under a canvas canopy and in front of a table lined with bows and bundles of arrows is a older balding Varisian with black hair, a big thick black mustache, and a noticeable big belly. Set up 50 yards away from a firing line are two large targets, with silhouettes of a scary looking winged horse on them. The bull’s-eye is about where a horse's heart would be. There are bigger concentric circles around the bull’s-eye.
Two teenage townsfolk stand with bows drawn as the man gives his instructions
Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil and keep him from menacing the surrounding area? Take a shot and see.
The two eager younglings loose their arrows.
1d20 ⇒ 15 1d20 ⇒ 8
One young man hits the third ring from the center and yells out a hoot. The other hit the targets tail and yell out curses.
Hurrah. A good effort both. He hands one lad a small trinket, and the other he just pats on the shoulder.
Who's next to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil?
Ho' there! Elf. That's a fine longbow ya have there. Can 'ya shoot wit' this one?
The grinning game master holds out one of the identical selection of bows that all challengers must use for this sport.
One copper, gets ya one arrow!
E'Terah:
The muscular game master with the calloused hands of a working man hears your query.
OH! My stout friend, three Goblins have found their way into your house and are tearing the place up! Grab them and toss them into the fireplace before they can destroy everything.
He points to three buckets of beanbags sewn to look like Goblins by each of three stations. Then gestures to a board 10 feet from a throw line. The closest hole is the largest and the farthest hole is the smallest.
Tha' first hole is fer the' children. Tha' second if fer ya woman folk, and the last and hardest if few the men folk. One copper buy's ya in, and the winner gets a piece o' real goblin jerky!
I am recruiting five adventuring types seeking to shed their mundane life in Sandpoint for the heroes journey known as Rise of the Runelords.
The party will total five PC's. I already have a commitment from:
Half-Elf Ranger - Female (Alaren, 2nd post below)
Four other spots are open.
Character guidelines:
20 point buy
1st Level
Average Gold
3 Traits (1 Campaign)
Fast exp. advancement
Core races and class's are preferred.
Core and APG mostly.
Most Golarion books (___ of Golarion, Adventurer's Armory, Inner Sea Guide, etc))
Other material may be considered on an individual basis.
Getting Started:
The anniversary edition RotRL players guide has a lot of good hooks and traits to bond the party members to Sandpoint and perhaps each other. Please incorporate one of these or create your own as you see fit.
What I like to see:
A character that feels alive, with a short backstory and a physical description. Characters should have a good balance between enough info to guide the beginning of the story, and general enough to develop and evolve along the way.
A reason for being in Sandpoint - presumably related to the Swallowtail festival, but not necessarily! (Chance, Local, Religious Leanings, etc.)
I’m looking for players who enjoy cinematic combats and creating interesting descriptions and dialogue.
On PbP specific rules. I generally keep close to the core rules on gameplay. Some items I find speed up a PbP game, like having the GM roll initiative and create and average for the Pc’s and creatures can save an entire day (or more) of posting.
Enough rambling by me!
Let’s here from you adventuring types . . .
As the OP, I'm thrilled to report my shipment arrived today in this huge box containing my new PF Heroes & Monsters minis.
Of course, I promised my wife to wait on the de-boxing until she's home from work.
Me'sa still a'sitting on ma baby Gerblat. Ma'ba put poops on'em to keep 'em warm.
Ay tink I'm under da stairs on da main deck, but I forgetz.
It'z tough be'n a working mommy in todayz Goblin ecco-nom-neittey.
I hope you don't mind Iron-Dice, but I subtracted 10 gold for ink, pens, notepads and some simple envelopes. Pretty simple items (that I was a moron and forgot), but we need to submit field reports as Pathfinders some how, right?
That's awesome. Little details like that are nice keep track of.
Ma' mah sat on me when ay waz an egg, afta poop'n me oot. Sha kept ma all warm wit her hairy buns.
Blarg finds a bucket and some worm padding. Old shirts, rag or whatever. He makes a cozy nest for Gerblat and starts a'sitting on the bucket, keeping him warm.
Bralg's ah mommy now! he smile a big toothy grin.
Hush li'l eggy, dont say a work
Blarg gona sit on'ya, just like that bird
An since dat bird dont sing, Blarg gona keep da magic ring
An if this bucket hurts my ass, Blarg gona drink wiskey from a glass
An if dat glass run dry, Blarg gona poke some'on in da eye
An if dat eye pop outa da head, din dat creature's gona be dead
An if dat dead un' come back to life, Blarg gona run for his life
An if Blarg run far far away, ay leave ya hear, too bad fur you, la la la
Ohhh. You'sa mak'a a poopkin look like me'sa. Yeaaa. I gona mak'a one dat lookz like you'z too. Heee Heee.
But no put nasty words on it. Words bad. Fire good.
(Her's an update on the imminent recruitment thread. Bring on your PC's. Let's get this going!)
Welcome adventurers!
We are recruiting for two adventuring types to round out a group of three fledgling Pathfinders. The game will be an ongoing episodic style based on Pathfinder Society adventures and Paizo modules going from 1st level to as far as we can go enjoying the journey.
Here are details, placed in spoilers buttons for convenience followed by some get acquainted role play.
What is the adventure?:
We will be starting with the Pathfinder Society introductory adventure "First Steps". From there the group will take on other PFS modules as well as published Paizo PF modules.
The concept is to create an episodic feel using the same cast as well as reoccurring theme, villains and friends. The Pathfinder society adventures seem well suited for the pace of PbP online games.
Is this a sanctioned society game with reporting, dedicated rules etc.?
No. It's an ongoing game using standard at-home rules.
Are we Pathfinders?
You start out that way. It's up to the group if you stay associated with, become opposed to, or play both sides in regards to the Pathfinders.
Character guidelines:
15 point buy
Med exp. advancement
Core races and class's are preferred.
Player Companion books are great! Especially the race books.
Inner sea guide is great also.
Adventures armory is in play.
APG should be alright, although I'd need to look over things first.
You will be playing as and interacting with Pathfinder Society characters (NOTE we are not using PFS sanctioned rules or reporting.)
PFS Factions will not be selected (if at all) until after the 1st adventure.
No ultimate guides at this time.
In the great city of Absolom, near the training grounds of the Pathfinder Society.
Wanted. Elite Pathfinders..
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin is assembling a team of newly trained Pathfinder recruits. He's looking to create a self sufficient company to take on difficult missions that only a team familiar with each others skills, and faults, could accomplish.
He's interviewed and assembled three strong members. He still seeks two individuals that can work as a team, and yet make slit second decisions on their own. There will be no military ranks in this company. Everyone is on equal footing.
He looking for individuals the the following skill sets:
Not to sound snarky, put Paizo does allow printing for personal use at commercial printers like kinkos, staples etc. That's cheaper than all the ink plus wear and teat on home printers.
They also offer beautiful printed versions of their material.
Again, not trying to be a smart arse, but they are two differet mediums.
GO THUD GO! Seven you say. Seven. Not six. Not eight. Seven.
Thud strikes out at vodka with all the pent up rage of his entire fallen group of Licktaoads. Every ounce of his little green being is focused on the key moment. Who lives. Who dies. Licktoad victory! Or insane cannable domination!
His swing catches the craggy druid off guard. She teeters. She totters. Her eyes roll back into her head. Does she black out? Does she stay alert? Thud cant be certain. The one aspect he does know. She falls . . .
Secret DM stuff:
I SAID IT'S SECRET. Get out!
She falls . . .
On the opposite side of the stack. Thus is blind to what happened next.
Goblins continuously raided and looted Tactfoot's small shire during his formative years. Eventually all the families had to flee to various corners of the inner sea region to escape their terror. This drives Tactfoots wanderlust and desire for a permeant residence and long term friends and family.
Tactfoot stands really still, trying to not bring attention to himself. He slowly removes and loads his sling. I'll lay low and let the sword-arms draw them in. Then I'll flank and finish off any that survive
Doh! Forgot I can post from my iPad if someone else is driving.
Eat a Bag of Bull Slugs Real Quick:
A covered wicker basket containing the slug bag is brought before Thud for accepting this dare, along with a napkin made out of a soggy leaf. Thud has 1 minute to eat an entire bag of bullslugs to win this dare.
Bull slugs are black, wriggling slugs the size of sausages. Even among the goblins, they're considered particularly foul-tasting and, because of the large amounts of slime they exude, difficult to chew.
Thud:
Eating the slugs is not a problem, even though they wriggle, taste of rotten fish, and burst with a little squeal when chewed. Eating a full bag in a minute is the hard part. There are five slugs in the bag, and successfully eating one requires a DC 15 Fortitude save (this drops to a DC 10 Fortitude save if you don't bother to spit out the slug's mildly poisonous slime bladder—but neglecting to take care not to eat the slime bladder could have repercussions). Eating a slug is a full-round action (because of the squirming), and if you fail a save can attempt to swallow the same slug on the following round.
A group of four struggling goblins carry the Teeter Chair (with Chief Gutwad sitting atop it) out to a central location where he can observe all the dares. He has with him a large tattered sac containing prizes.
First up, The Squealy Nord!
A narrow corral now holds Nord. A circle of rope tied around his neck to hold while ridding. Nord would be described by Humans as a hyperactive cute pink piglet. Most hideous and scary to Goblinkind. The pit is 20 feet in diameter, and just over 10 feet deep.
Glop:
After mounting Nord he will be released into the pit from the narrow corral with you clinging onto his back and generally screaming a lot.
Make a DC15 Ride check. If you fail, you are thrown and will take the consequences. If you make it, you need to check again. Do this until you fail or make three successes in a row.
Ran out of time to write Thuds dare this AM. Heading out for the day, will try to post this PM
Alright you stanky Goblins. Stand in the center of the "stage", a loose circle of rocks on muddy ground (let's hope it's mud!), surrounded by burning brazers of dog skulls, further surrounded by your entire tribe looking on. Drooling with anticipation. Chief Gutwad and Slorb stand upon the fallen tree to see over the crown.
Slorb says in his oily voice, Now, each 'o youz gobers will go in one-zes to da center and introduce-e you selfz to the clan as heroes. Den' youz do the best gob dance youz gotz. Da winner get's dis feather to be bestest dancer.
Slorb hols up a ragged old crows feather. Gutwad looks on with a pleased (for him) expression.
After introducing yourselves, describe your best dance moves. You can use any skill or skills for the dance. Roll three skill checks that match each movement.
Example. Cartwheel=acrobatics.
